


Ask not of me to Still

by musicalgirl4474



Series: Whumptober 2020 [22]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Drug Withdrawal, Forced Drug Use, George Washington is a Dad, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, hand-wavy medical stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:02:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27159026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalgirl4474/pseuds/musicalgirl4474
Summary: The doctor looks over Alexander when the boy starts showing worrying signs of a new British torture.Whumptober #22Do These Tacos Taste Funny To You?Poisoned/Drugged/WithdrawalIt's the last one with a bit of the second, 'cause you can't have withdrawal without having been drugged at some point.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & George Washington
Series: Whumptober 2020 [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956718
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	Ask not of me to Still

Washington refused to leave Hamilton for the night, stubbornly looking after his aide, even as the doctor conducted his examinations and cauterized the sluggishly-bleeding stump at the end of the boy’s right arm. He understood Lafayette’s suggestion that he wait outside soon enough. The doctor had sworn when he divested Hamilton of his trousers to find where the blood was coming from. Dark bruises against pale hips were a clue even before the other abuse became obvious.

“It is not good that he bled,” Doctor Mann murmured, and Washington had to find a chair to sit. His head was spinning with the fact that wounds from rape became easily infected, easily fatal. He let the horror wash over him as the doctor spoke with his assistant, who hurried away with a nod.

It is a few moments of stillness except for the crackling fire before the young man came back with a basin of water and a vial of oil. Setting his sight on his boy’s slack, sleeping face, Washington vows to himself that he will not be witness to any of the boy’s further humiliation. That it was to make himself feel better, rather than Hamilton, is a thought in the back of his mind, but Washington ignores it.

“He is not still bleeding,” Mann says into the silence a moment later. “With any luck, that will mean that the wounds were superficial and are already closed.” Washington nods his thanks, but keeps his eyes trained on Alexander. Which is why he notices the sweat beading the boy’s brow. Washington moves to wipe it away, and is met with cold, clammy, trembling skin.

“He is sweating, but has no fever,” he says, unaware of the worry coloring his tone.

The doctor looks suddenly concerned. “I have heard of a tactic the British have started using on prisoners,” he said. “What food they give to prisoners is said to be laced with a toxic mushroom of some kind, it can cause hallucinations, and has quite violent withdrawal symptoms.” Washington looks up, worry widening his eyes. Is the boy to go through yet more trials? “If I thought any would still be in his system, I would try to make him purge,” Mann says, but shakes his head in something bordering on helplessness. “We will have to help him through it and hope that he is spared the worst of the symptoms. He has not been with them too long, hopefully it will be mostly just the sweats.”

It is not just the sweats. At some point, Hamilton wakes, confused and gasping as if having difficulty breathing. And then the spasms start. Washington holds his boy through the worst of it, as his legs tangle themselves and air rushes into his lungs only in quick gulps. It’s the sounds of distress that make tears spring to Washington’s eyes, not least because there is nothing he can do to ease the boy’s distress without possibly causing yet more problems. Doctor Mann had said that a little laudanum could be used if the spasms became too much, but as vomiting was likely, it would not do to send the boy to sleep to drown in his own stomach contents.

The assistant is left behind to assist the general in helping his aide as Doctor Mann goes back to the medical tent. Washington calls for a cot to be set up in the room for the youth, who only raises his eyebrow at the bedroll and stations himself, standing, at the foot of the bed.

“At least take a chair,” Washington says from where he sits with Hamilton’s weak frame leaning back against him. Alexander’s spine presses painfully into him, and he wishes fervently that the boy could keep food down if only so he could be fed more.

“I need to stay alert, General, so that I may notice if he takes a turn for the worst,” is the response he gets, and goodness, Washington had not thought he would ever meet anyone as stubborn as his Alexander. He has not the energy to do any kind of battle-of-wills at the moment however, so he acquiesces.

Alexander chokes out a pained whimper as the shaking subsides for a moment, and Washington brings the bucket forward in case the boy is about to throw up yet again. It has been largely dry heaving with a little bile recently, but better safe than sorry. Hamilton’s legs spasm again, and he lets out a choked cry of pain. “Hush,” Washington said quietly into his aide’s ear, little though he suspected the boy could hear him. “It will get better, son, just hold on. You will feel better, and all of this will fade to a bad dream.”

“That may be more correct than you think General,” Mann’s assistant said. “Those mushrooms are thought to cause some horrible dreams and hallucinations for even a few days after the withdrawal symptoms cease.”

“How long will they last?”

“It is hard to say, though word has it that they do not last longer than a day. Less if we can eventually get some food into him. I sent for some bread on my way here, though perhaps they had to bake it new for how long it’s taken.” He sounds vaguely annoyed, but largely calm, as if striving for that nothing-matters-overmuch-to-me attitude that Doctor Mann had covered himself with to get through the loss of life this war was causing.

“Sir?” The rasping voice pulls Washington from his thoughts.

“Alexander?”

“I feel horrible.”

“You’ve been drugged, that’s rather to be expected,” the assistant said. Alexander grunted in acknowledgement.

“You’ll feel better tomorrow,” Washington gentled the boy. Hamilton hiccoughed a laugh.

“Given my luck,” he rasps, “I doubt it. But thank-you, Sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, vaguely it's shrooms that Alex was drugged with, only nastier than most shrooms are. Most shrooms aren't physically addicting. Psychologically, yes, physically, less often.


End file.
